


i may not be your cup of tea (but i'm your tenth shot of tequila)

by galaxyowl



Category: Campaign (Podcast)
Genre: Ambiguously Post-Canon, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:42:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25623079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxyowl/pseuds/galaxyowl
Summary: It occurs to Lyn that she doesn’t really know that much about Aava Arek, Hand of the Emperor. Just that she wants Tamlin, and that she and Tryst have a thing, and that she is, almost certainly, bad news.She also isn’tnotattractive, Lyn thinks, and then shoves that thought as far away as she possibly can.
Relationships: Aava Arek/Lyntel'luroon
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	i may not be your cup of tea (but i'm your tenth shot of tequila)

**Author's Note:**

> i consider it my duty to write femslash for every fandom i get into, even if that requires shipping two characters who never interact in canon

As seems to be their standard, trouble appears mere moments after they’ve landed.

Lyn has just finished talking with the person at customs office to make sure all of their (admittedly, extremely forged) papers are in order. Bacta, Leenik, and Tryst have headed out to get started on the errands they’d planned for this stop (or, more likely, just get into some mess that Lyn will have to rescue them from); Neemo’s on the ship watching Tamlin.

It’s as she’s exiting the office that she catches sight of her, a pale figure just visible down a narrow hallway. Lyn stops, and stares, but she disappears before Lyn can be sure that it’s her.

She casts a glance back towards the _Mynock_. If Aava Arek really is here, they need to know. If only so they can be sure to get out of here as fast as physics will allow.

Lyn starts down the hallway. It twists and turns several times over, and with every step she’s less sure of the decision. But no, she needs to know. She can’t alarm everyone without cause, nor can she live with herself if something happens to Tamlin because of her. So, she continues.

She isn’t even really sure what these hallways are for. This docking facility is connected to some other municipal buildings, she recalls vaguely, but she hadn’t read much further than that. She definitely, definitely should have.

She makes another turn, and there is Aava—not even through a doorway, just standing there in the hallway, leaning against the wall with a deathstick between her fingers.

Lyn stops.

Aava looks at her a moment. “You lost?”

“Aava,” she says.

Aava raises an eyebrow. “Sorry, but do I know you?”

“I mean, not really, I guess? We have a couple of… mutual friends,” Lyn says dryly.

Aava gestures with deathstick.“No, I _do_ know you. You’re—” She snaps her fingers. “Luroon, was it?”

“Lyntel,” she says, before she has the sense to stop herself.

It is at this point that Lyn realizes that this was a very bad plan. If she ends up getting captured or something because she apparently thought it was a good idea to confront the Hand of the Emperor on her own, she is never going to live it down.

“Yes,” Aava says softly. “Lyntel. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You’re—I—“

Lyn tries to think. Her hand goes to the blaster at her side.

Aava sighs. “Oh, if it’s going to be like _that_ …” She reaches with her free hand towards where her lightsaber is holstered. But she doesn’t take it out yet.

Neither of them make the first move. They just look at one another, locked in a stalemate.

It occurs to Lyn that she doesn’t really know that much about Aava Arek, Hand of the Emperor. Just that she wants Tamlin, and that she and Tryst have a thing, and that she is, almost certainly, bad news.

She also isn’t _not_ attractive, Lyn thinks, and then shoves that thought as far away as she possibly can.

Aava slowly looks Lyn up and down. She holds out the deathstick. “Want a drag?”

“No.”

“Probably for the best,” she says, flicking it away. “I hear those things’ll kill you.” She grins, like it’s a hilarious joke.

“Wouldn’t you want that,” Lyn says, desperately trying to steer this conversation back onto a course that makes sense, “seeing as we’re enemies?”

“Do we have to be enemies? Your friend Leenik didn’t seem to think so.”

“Leenik is a lot of things, but I don’t exactly consider him a good judge of character.”

Aava bursts out laughing. Something twists in Lyn’s chest at the sound of it. “All right,” she says, “all right. So, are you going to kill me then?”

Her hand is still on her blaster. She still hasn’t drawn it. A joke occurs to her about how she just said she’s _not_ Leenik, meaning she doesn’t jump straight to killing people to solve her problems. She clamps her mouth shut. This is not a time for joking.

“I’m leaving,” Lyn says, and turns.

She makes it barely one step before Aava sighs. “You know, for whatever it’s worth, if I wanted you dead, you would be by now.”

She turns around. “Is that seriously supposed to make me like you _more_?”

“You don’t have to like me.”

“Then why are you doing this? Why _haven’t_ you killed me, Aava?” The name feels heavier on her tongue than it did a second ago. Electric, somehow.

Aava considers this a moment, arms folded across her chest. Lyn’s gaze lingers on the lines of her face, despite herself, soaking in every detail. “I don’t get you.”

“How so?”

“Just—the other three, they’re all stuck together, right? They’ve been traveling as a crew for a while, they all knew Grizzelle. How do you fit into this picture, Lyntel’luroon?”

Lyn flinches. “I ask myself that question every day,” she says, trying to play it as a joke.

Aava laughs. “I like you, Lyntel,” she decides. “You’ve got…” She gestures vaguely. “Spunk. That’s attractive.”

Lyn’s face heats. “Listen, I don’t know what it is that you think is happening here, but let me assure you right this moment that I am not Tryst. You can’t just—just throw your pretty face my way and get me to do whatever you want.”

Several reactions flicker across Aava’s face in quick succession, and for a heartbeat Lyn is mortifyingly sure she’s misread. Then Aava straightens and steps towards her, closing the distance them. “No,” she says gently, reaching out and trailing a finger down one of Lyn’s lekku, “you’re not Tryst.”

“I just said—“ Lyn protests weakly.

“That you think my face is pretty.”

Said face is now so very close to Lyn’s own, eyes glittering, a smile playing at her lips. Lyn’s breath catches in her throat.

Aava steps away. “But if you’re really not interested, I’ll let you be.”

Lyn needs to go. Now. Aava is dangerous and not to be trusted and Lyn said that she was going to leave a while ago, so she needs to do it.

Her feet don’t seem to be in agreement. Her body, in general, doesn’t. She stands frozen in silence.

After a moment, Aava puts a hand on Lyn’s arm, and meets her eyes. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” she says, and she wants it to be venomous but it comes out sounding fragile, so quiet she can barely hear herself.

Here’s what Lyn knows: she is really kriffing tired of being the responsible one.

“Aava,” she says, a third time, and the name is a song on her lips. She steps forward. This step is, really, the point of no return, the point at which this stopped being a bad situation and started being a bad decision.

Neither of them make the first move. They just look at one another, locked in a stalemate.

“I take it I was right the first time, then?” Aava says. Lyn nods. Words are beyond her at the moment.

When Aava kisses her, she leans into it with the embarrassing eagerness of a nervous teenager. She hadn’t realized until just now how badly she’d wanted to be touched, how _lonely_ she had been, even while surrounded by people.

Maybe, just this once, it’s her turn to make a bad decision.

**Author's Note:**

> come shout about podcasts with me on tumblr & twitter @confusedbluesky


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